Being unemployed is hard work.

Unemployed, Day 13

Being unemployed is hard work. The waking up early. The hunt. The immobility. The stress. I’m doing more emailing and office chair sitting than I have in my whole professional career.

It’s a 24/7 job. Always on call. Always ready to go. Whenever the opportunity arises. Hoping for the big payoff – when I’m finally recognized for all the hard work and rewarded with employment.

In this job, I don’t watch TV. I don’t play my bass. I don’t take lunch breaks. I don’t have water cooler conversations about your daughters piano recital. I can’t even bring myself to listen to music. I’m focused. I’m driven. Don’t call me unless you have a job to offer. I haven’t the time nor the inclination to hear your well-meaning, but ineffective, words of encouragement. Just. Stop.

Shock has turned to guilt. Guilt has turned to depression. Depression has turned to anger. Anger has turned to motivation. I’ve never been more motivated to accomplish a goal than I am right now, in this moment. I am sacrificing all personal pleasures in order to find a job. And I won’t quit until I reach that goal.

Somebody out there needs me. I’m going to find them. And this little rough patch will all become a distant memory.

One day, I’ll look back on it. Sitting on a porch swing in the twilight of our years, I’ll whisper to my wife, “It almost broke me, you know”.

This is Day 13, folks. And that’s all I’m going to say today.

Being unemployed is hard work. The waking up early. The hunt. The immobility. The stress. I’m doing more emailing and office chair sitting than I have in my whole professional career.

It’s a 24/7 job. Always on call. Always ready to go. Whenever the opportunity arises. Hoping for the big payoff – when I’m finally recognized for all the hard work and rewarded with employment.

In this job, I don’t watch TV. I don’t play my bass. I don’t take lunch breaks. I don’t have water cooler conversations about your daughters piano recital. I can’t even bring myself to listen to music. I’m focused. I’m driven. Don’t call me unless you have a job to offer. I haven’t the time nor the inclination to hear your well-meaning, but ineffective, words of encouragement. Just. Stop.

Shock has turned to guilt. Guilt has turned to depression. Depression has turned to anger. Anger has turned to motivation. I’ve never been more motivated to accomplish a goal than I am right now, in this moment. I am sacrificing all personal pleasures in order to find a job. And I won’t quit until I reach that goal.

Somebody out there needs me. I’m going to find them. And this little rough patch will all become a distant memory.

One day, I’ll look back on it. Sitting on a porch swing in the twilight of our years, I’ll whisper to my wife, “It almost broke me, you know”.